


Feverfew

by Measured



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: Community: hc_bingo, F/F, Fandom Stocking 2016, Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-01
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-13 21:39:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9143314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Measured/pseuds/Measured
Summary: When Lissa falls ill, Maribelle fights kings, strategists, Frederick and exhaustion to care for her.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SaraJaye](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaraJaye/gifts).



> HC_bingo: fever. Betaed by Wind.

Lissa hadn't shown up for morning tea. A cursory investigation showed that she hadn't shown up for training at dawn, or to go berry picking with Ricken. Maribelle ran through her mind everything she'd inflict on anyone who dared harm _her_ Lissa. Was it a brigand, or some oaf in the army who didn't deserve to even bask in her smile?

She started at the food tent, for Lissa always did have quite the appetite. She ducked down, only to spot Stahl  
eating his porridge in the most graceless manner. He smiled sheepishly, his face covered with food. 

"Have you seen Lissa?"

He started to speak with his mouth full, but a sharp look from Maribelle silenced him. He simply shook his head.

She checked Chom and Robin's tents before she checked Lissa's own. She was so full of energy, sleeping late seemed so unlike her. But as noon neared, Maribelle ducked under the tent flap and squinted into the darkness.

"Lissa, Darling? Are you in here?"

The only response was a groan. Maribelle ducked into her room, only to curl her lip at the spectacle. Yesterday's clothes were strewn about in a deeply careless and common manner. Lissa was certainly capricious, but she wasn't filthy. Maribelle tiptoed over the strewn about dirtied garments. They were still stained with blood, dirt and sweat from the last battle. For a startling moment, Maribelle's mind went back to the past--the rain, muddy footprints, and the enclave of spears. She'd healed Lissa, kissed her wounds clean when they parted the night before. Lissa had left to take a bath, and evidently never made it.

"Lissa, dear?"

Only the ends of her blond hair stuck out. Maribelle slowly pulled the blanket down to about her collar bone, until Lissa's flushed, yet lovely face was revealed.

She bent to touch Lissa's forehead, only to pull it away. "Darling, you're as warm as the fireplace, you're completely red." 

Her face was beaded with sweat, and her eyes turned glassy.

"Mari...belle?" she said. Her voice was a rasp that she could barely discern. Just that single word sent her into a fit of coughing.

"I have to get up. Chrom will..."

"Chrom will wait, he's hardly a brute," Maribelle said.

"But...everyone's---"

"I'll go speak to them. It's unacceptable to have you move until you're feeling better." With purpose (and some reluctance) Maribelle rose up, and tucked her parasol.

"I promise I'll be back soon. Rest for now, my dear Lissa," Maribelle said.

As much as she wanted to stay by Lissa's side, there were some things she needed to attend to.

*

It wasn't the first time she'd burst into a training meeting like some avenging Valkyrie, and it likely wouldn't be the last. Frederick clutched tighter to his spear, relaxing only when he recognized her. Robin paused mid-strategizing, his face went blank as she closed the door behind him. The pages of his book closed shut. 

"Maribelle?"

"Yes, Milord." She curtseyed. "I apologize for my rude intrusion, but Lissa has fallen ill." Maribelle said.

"Plegia moves even now to strike against us," Robin said. He stroked his chin, his brow furrowed in thought.

"Plegia? Hmmph!" Maribelle tossed her curls indignantly. "I'll banish that lowborn king of theirs back to the abyss he came from myself! Lissa is far more important than those _curs_. I would rather go to the border alone and bury the entire army under my heels than think of Lissa caused even the slightest displeasure."

Even Frederick, in all of his stoicism, raised his brows at that.

"I believe she has a point, Chrom," Robin said. "Lissa isn't the only one who is unwell. If we rush into battle now, we won't be at our whole strength." 

Maribelle clutched her parasol a bit tighter. It took some nerve to put _Lissa_ on the same status as some of the other unwashed masses who made up their army.

"Robin's right," Chrom said. Which was no surprise to Maribelle; it was every other word Chrom ever said, after all. 

She curtseyed. "Thank you for your wisdom, Milord. If you'll excuse me, I must ensure she has the proper medicine, and return to her side posthaste. Stahl must be called to brew it at once. Perhaps he's working on his potions, even now."

"Not until after his fifteenth bowl of porridge," Frederick said with a sigh.

"Well then, I'll know where to start," Maribelle said sharply.

*

Frederick's prediction was entirely right. Stahl was in the exact same place, only with more dirty bowls beside him, and more food splattered across his green armor. It never failed to amaze her how much he could eat. Every other word out of his mouth seemed a note of wondering when the next meal would be.

Maribelle cleared her throat. Stahl looked up, and almost dropped his spoon. 

"Stahl, you're the son of an apothecary, and I need those skills immediately. My darling Lissa has taken ill. I'm afraid this is no time for pleasantries and tea."

Porridge dripped down his chin, to land in his lap. Sheepishly, he wiped at his face with a napkin. "I'll start, as soon as I finish cleaning up."

"Let Donnel finish the cleaning, he's ever so good at it. This is an emergency. Lissa is _feeling unwell!_ I cannot bear her having a moment's discomfort." 

"If Frederick found out I was slacking on cleaning up, he'd never let me hear the end of it," Stahl said apologetically. He rose, and tried to hold the stack of bowls, only for them to topple uneasily towards the ground.

"Perhaps I was not clear enough: Lissa has fallen ill! If Frederick cannot stop with all his stodgy old man foolishness, then _I_ will remind him who he serves, and who he answers to!"

Stahl paled. "I-I'll get right on that. I've got a new infusion of herbs, and I can make it up right away."

"Good. I'll expect it delivered straight to Lissa's tent as soon as physically possible. Do not bother with any other of your usual duties--Lissa is far more important than sparring with Sully right now, or brushing your horse."

Stahl rubbed at the back of his neck. "You'll talk to Frederick on my behalf?"

"Of course. I'll gladly go to battle for you, 

"With a match of wits and your tongue, you'll always win---" Stahl's languid expression turned to shock, as if he'd only just realized what he'd said. He stumbled for words. "I mean--"

"I'll take that as a compliment. Now, if you _please_..."

"Of course, I'll get right to it--" Stahl bowed. Somehow, his messy brown hair had grown even more mussed during the the morning. How fascinating. He closed the tent flap, and left her with dirty dishes.

Maribelle didn't tarry a moment longer; she still had Donnel and Frederick to command before she could return to Lissa's side. 

"I'll make this quick," Maribelle said to herself. She stepped out into the sunlight, uncaring of the mud which had caked to her boots. The warmth of the day still hadn't quite dried up from the torrential rains of the weeks past. But boots could be cleaned, or made anew. Lissa, however, was far more important than an inconvenience, and affront to her nobility like the rainy season.

*

"Darling, I'm back." Maribelle put her parasol aside, and ducked into the tiny tent. Truly, a princess deserved more, but Lissa was eternally humble. Maribelle admired, and yet was endlessly frustrated by this trait.  
Lissa was like pure unrefined sunshine, a princess of the highest order. She deserved to be clad in the most beautiful fashions, ones that would pale beneath her kindness and innate beauty.

But war had no kindness, especially not to fashions. Maribelle promised herself she'd comission dozens of beautiful things for the both of them, the minute peace came. Enough for ten balls, a whole season and then some.

"I fought a good battle. No one will dare make you move even a little. Stahl is making you some kind of potion. Hopefully he actually cleaned up before he started. Now, I've brought the tea you like best."

Lissa pushed herself up.

"You fought for me?"

"Of course I did, Darling. I'd take up my parasol for you any day."

She bent down to kiss Lissa's forehead, and lingered, her hand against her cheek.

"Maribelle--you'll catch my cold."

"Hardly. I'll scare away any which comes near, glare them down entirely."

Lissa giggled, and broke off into a coughing fit. "I don't think you can scare a cold that way, Maribelle."

"You misjudge my determination, love. Now sip your tea. It'll make you feel better, until Stahl returns."

Lissa blew above the cup. Not the fine porcelain tea cups, adorned with flowers and edged in gold, but the more sturdy fare. After breaking a truly lovely set with hummingbirds, even Maribelle acquiesced to the fact that some concessions must be made. 

Lissa coughed, and ducked her head. "I'm--sorry. It hurts to speak..."

"There's no need to apologize; I'll speak for the both of us," Maribelle said. 

*

The bottle was empty of the pungent green liquid. Stahl had already made enough for three day's time, though Maribelle had commissioned more. The excess could always be sold to the villagers, of course. 

Lissa curled up in a more peaceful sleep. Everything still smelled thick, like new grass and mint. But a potion wasn't enough. So even as the night grew long, and her eyelids fluttered closed, Maribelle stayed at Lissa's bedside. Every so often, Maribelle would lift her staff, to bathe Lissa in its glimmering light. Now, if she could just keep a pile of broken staves away from Miriel's watchful eye. That woman could find an an off number in a sea of ledgers. If she dared raise a word, Maribelle would offer pay from her own coiffure. Though any King worth his salt wouldn't begrudge taking care of his sister by any means possible.

The witching hour passed, dawn came. Exhaustion took her, until tea made no dent, until it was fuzzy about the edges. She slipped into the bed roll beside Lissa. Nestled together, she fell into a dreamless sleep.

*

Maribelle woke to an intense coughing fit. She curled up with aching lungs against her beloved Lissa.

"Oh no! I told you to be careful. You caught my sickness!"

Lissa's blue eyes were brighter today. Where once she had been flushed, and incoherent, now her spirited nature had returned. 

"Nonesense. I couldn't catch something that fast," Maribelle said. her voice had grown scratchy. She reached out and rested her palm against Lissa's forehead. "Darling, your fever broke."

"It's all thanks to you, Maribelle."

Maribelle coughed again. The exhaustion hadn't left her. It'd been foolish, to stay up until dawn, and yet, she'd do it again had she the chance.

_I suppose I'm ever a fool for you, my dear._

"Oh, Maribelle, you really did catch it."

Maribelle turned away, and broke into another coughing fit. "Well, that's just fine. Because I know you'll be right here beside me. Though, Robin will be none too pleased to hear the news."

"Don't worry. I'll deal with my brother!"

Lissa strove to rose, only to fall dizzily back.

"Maybe I'll need another day or two of rest," Lissa said. She crawled back under the covers. 

"Indeed, don't think of exerting yourself. Not when you need..." Maribelle yawned. "You need..." her head rested against the pillow. Everything was soft. Dreaming was only a step away.

"I'll take care of you this time, Maribelle," Lissa said. She bent to kiss Maribelle's brow.

"I know, Darling," Maribelle said. She slipped back into the warm darkness, unfettered by this illness. Not even in her most miserable state could a moment with Lissa be ruined.


End file.
